In the house I grew up in, when things broke, you kept them and made do. The Great Depression, by all signs and portents, never ended. The other day, I locked myself out. It was cold and wet, but I had a key hidden in one of those little magnetic boxes so I was relaxed about it. However, it was next to impossible to get the box open. If I hadn't left the car unlocked, I couldn't have done it. I got it open a millimeter or so and then pried it the rest of the way by sticking an arm of my sunglasses in the gap. Otherwise, I'd still be out there.
The box had also been hard to open the last time I had locked myself out. So hard that I cracked the cover, which must have been why it was even harder this time. In a rush of sanity, I went and bought a new one today (which opened easy peasy) and threw out the old one. Nothing major or significant, I realize, but I felt like I had changed my last name. When things break, you replace them and then throw them out. What a concept!
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